


Alteration Finds

by Bardo (snapiphany)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapiphany/pseuds/Bardo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he wanted was an answer to his question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alteration Finds

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008 for [](http://tomatoe18.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tomatoe18.livejournal.com/)**tomatoe18**.

 

.:.

_“Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove...”_

_\- William Shakespeare, **Sonnet 116**._

.:.

 

“You holding on tight up there?”

“Mm-hm!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah!”

“B’cos if you fall out, I’ll have _your_ bollocks, Draco.”

“Is there any way I can persuade you from viciously parting me from my manhood?” asked Draco.

Harry snorted. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“No?”

Harry gave a short nod. “No.” Teddy’s tinkling giggle and Draco’s simultaneous groan drifted downwind to him. He smiled.

“Okay, okay! Can we go now, Uncle Harry?”

“Not so fast, Ted. D’you remember what I said about telling your grandmother?”

 _“Yesss,”_ whined Teddy.

“Yeah? What’d I say?”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Harry shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. God, it seemed the boy was channeling more and more of his mother’s impatience every time he turned around.

“We’re waiting on you, Teddy Lupin.”

“Ummmmm....”

A snort echoed uphill. “He’s doing that face again, Harry: the ... the thinking one. I wonder if our little Slytherin’ll do that.”

He chuckled, clearly imagining in his state of pensiveness, Teddy’s button nose wrinkling as he rapped his palm against his chin. His mouth would be crooked and his stubby fingers drumming loudly against the side of the wheelbarrow as he wracked his brain for the right answer.

He shared a knowing glance with Draco, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Kids. “Sometime today, knee-high wiseguy.”

“Hey!”

Draco playfully shrugged. “Truth hurts, kid.”

“Oh! I got it, I got it!” Teddy’s shout boomed across the vacant steppe. “You said—you said ... ‘don’t’!”

“Quite right.”

Then Teddy added in a softer voice, “B’cos you’ll have my bollocks, too?”

“Language!”

An amused snort bubbled from Draco who turned round to face him. Mustering his most potent glare, Harry scowled, dismayed to have such distance between them. Sometimes a solid knock to the head was immeasurably more satisfying than Hexing his pants full of ants....

“Hey, don’t give me that look; I took the blame last time you swore,” Draco readily reminded, “and I’m _still_ getting frosty looks from Andromeda.”

“Actually, she gives you those looks because you’re the one who convinced Teddy to trade Christmas for Hanukkah to get more presents,” amended Harry. “She never forgave you for putting such skewed ideas in his head.”

“I blame Granger.”

He rolled his eyes. “You blame her for everything. Why can’t you be brave enough to confront your own fears?”

“I did: _Andromeda.”_

“Rubbish.”

“Besides, Granger’s the one who bought him that book on holiday celebrations around the world and _you’re_ the one who made _me_ read it to him—”

“For the last time, I didn’t know there would be references to Muggle culture.”

“—so it stands to reason _she_ was the one Andromeda should’ve chased around the house with a menorah. A _lit_ menorah, mind you; I nearly got my head caved in and my eyebrows took weeks to grow back,” groused Draco. Harry smiled to himself when Draco rubbed the back of his head, no doubt recalling the moment Andromeda caught him with a cuff to the crown. “So this ‘bollocks’ episode is all on you, Potter.”

Harry sighed impatiently. “Are you ready up there or not?”

“Oh, changing the subject, are we?” he asked, sneering. “What happened to confronting your own fears?”

_“Draco!”_

“Yes, yes, all right.” Draco rolled his eyes and gestured curtly as he moved just out of sight. After a beat his head popped over the side and he chimed, “We’re ready.”

“Positive?”

“Yes.”

“Ted, are you holding on?”

“Yep!”

“All right. Ready, set ... _go go go go go go go!”_

An immense grunt sounded as Draco heaved the wheelbarrow up the slight knoll with impressive strength. As they disappeared from view, he listened for Teddy’s wild giggles, Draco’s affected roars, and the inevitable groan of the wheelbarrow as it lurched and crashed the duo softly on the ground, legs flailing in all directions.

Harry winced and imagined the tangled heap of bodies he could clearly see in his mind’s eye: Draco would be wry-faced, a healthy tinge to his cheeks, and hefting a keyed-up Teddy to his feet. They’d then dust themselves off and Teddy would beg him for another go, grazed hands and knees be damned.

“All right?”

“Again! Again!”

Harry shook his head with a tiny smile and measured the distance from here to his boys. With one hand bracing his back and the other wound tightly around the basket handle, he budged up the slight hill with cautious steps, as fast as his swollen belly would allow. Pursing his lips, he kept his biting retorts to himself when Draco suddenly appeared over the knoll’s edge and dashed from the hilltop to his side in seconds. “I’m fine,” he stressed.

“You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be climbing hills in your state,” chided Draco, supporting his front and back. “Halfway up, you probably would’ve gone into labor.”

“I would not. I just want to check on my plants.”

Draco’s brow creased. “I told you Ted and I have been tending to them.”

“I haven’t seen them in months.”

“I took pictures.”

He grinned placatingly and patted Draco’s frowning face. “You left the cap on the lens, Draco.” An irked expression settled on the blond’s face as they moved to flat land. “Besides, this is not a hill. It’s a...” he peered around, taking a breath and searching for the right word, “...slightly raised prominence in the ground that happens to be mountainous.”

Draco cast him a dry look, replying, unconvinced, “Uh-huh. And what’s that called?”

“A, um ... a non-mountainous mountain?”

A cynical look crossed his partner’s face. “Nice try.”

“And what do you mean by ‘in my state’?” he irritably continued, swotting at the hands that cradled him long after they reached the top. The red cart had been righted once more with Teddy seated in it, clearly ready for another go. There were dips and a large gouge where the lip of the wheelbarrow had obviously made its mark in the ground. God help them if they damaged this cart; were he in a fitter state, he was likely to send Draco wheeling downhill with none but a salute and a strong kick.

With no visible injury to his godson or his favorite cart, Harry eyed the flat steppe where Draco had established his plot of plants for potions. When Draco had decided to use the otherwise unusable hill for this purpose, Harry knew he couldn’t let him stink up all their land with his dittany, monkshood-aconite-wolfsbane, Mandrakes, bleeding cannabis and whatever else he grew that escaped him. It had taken some convincing and a few Non-Invasive Charms (the Mandrakes were bound to rut against anything with roots during young adulthood for which his nettles suffered greatly), but he managed to persuade a small patch of garden out of an otherwise resolute Draco. Here, he tended to herbs, mundane plants, and other easy vegetables that, in the end, Draco unwillingly admitted were handy substitutes when he ran out of stock. To this day, he smugly held that over the blond’s head.

Lately, however, he hadn’t been able to make his frequent trips to the garden on the hill—or, _non-mountainous mountain_ once he lost sight of his feet, around month seven. Since then, the wheelbarrow races he and Draco had taken turns giving Teddy were rare. But today was a mild day, not quite wintry yet, and the last time Teddy had visited he’d promised they’d race the wheelbarrow once more before the season’s first snowfall. Or at least Draco would cart him around until they flew head over heels into the mulberry thicket _again_.

“I’m not _that_ big,” he grouched, rubbing his swollen gut self-consciously. It wasn’t his bright idea to get knocked up, or to haul a squirmy little watermelon of their own around for nine months. That was the last time he’d allowed Draco to prepare potions in their kitchen.

When the answer to his statement wasn’t forthcoming, he narrowly gazed at his partner, who was busy unloading empty jars into Teddy’s all too eager hands.

Scowling, Harry persisted, _“I’m not.”_

“Be careful with these, Ted Lupin, or I swear on all that’s holy, it’ll be _coal_ for you come Christmastime.”

As Teddy held his full hands out with alert caution, Harry studied Draco’s guarded expression before his eyes widened in shock. “Am I?” he feebly questioned, frowning. “Am I really?”

“Pass me the spade?”

In a split second his worry blossomed into annoyance. _“Draco.”_

 _“Harry,”_ he teasingly returned, smirking. He handed Teddy the basket and jerked his head towards the garden. “Here, make yourself useful, Tiny Tim: go pick some vegetables—ripe ones, this time—for your uncle.”

Teddy’s little brow lined in disappointment, but he scrambled out of the cart and trudged over to the designated patch of land. His cropped turquoise hair and features settled on a muddy brown, undoubtedly matching his mood.

When his godson was a good distance away, Harry pressed, _“Draco.”_

“Yes.”

He blinked. “Yes?”

“Okay.”

 _“Okay?!”_ he spat, scandalized.

“Harry, calm down. Getting angry will only upset the baby.”

“No, trust me: the kid’s pissed, too.” But he did take a deep breath to calm himself. His ire only caused their child agitation, and when the baby was agitated, it felt like he had David-bloody- _Beckham_ in his womb with his bladder as the prime target. “All right, I’m calm, I’m collected, I will listen objectively and—screw this: what do you mean by _‘okay’?”_

Draco dropped the shovel in alarm. He winced as he spun to face him, offering a crooked smile of apology. Teddy whipped back around, his honey-brown eyes bouncing between them with keen interest, the empty basket long forgotten as he angled his little head closer.

“‘Okay?’” repeated Harry as he gently caressed his belly. “I’m ... I’m _pregnant.”_

“Yes, and beautiful.”

Harry shot him a cross look. “Oh, so now I’m _beautiful?”_ He tried to fold his arms menacingly but with a large non-mountainous mountain of his own protruding from his body, the effect was lost in a stint of frustrated fidgeting.

His mood blackened even more when Draco laughed at him. _Laughed._ At _him._

“So now I’m funny to you?”

Draco was before him in three strides, settling a kiss on his nose. Behind them, Teddy gagged audibly and hopped along, grumbling under his breath.

“Oi!” he yelled around Draco’s shoulder. “I heard that!”

“No, you didn’t!”

“I did! And I’m going to tell your grandmother, I am!”

Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Harry, please don’t pick a fight with an eight-year-old.”

“Okay,” Teddy tauntingly said, the smugness in his tone even palpable from nearly forty feet away. “What’d I say, then?”

Bollocks. His mouth snapped shut.

“Thought so!”

He could see Draco fighting against a smirk as he drawled, “Well, I hope you don’t think he learned that from _me_.”

“Damn it. The boy’s too smart for his own good,” hissed Harry as he tried—and failed—to fold his arms. Angry, he waved them about wildly, spitting, _“And why the hell can’t I cross my arms right?!”_

At the sound of Draco’s chuckle, he froze. “You were always funny,” Draco murmured and kissed his left cheek, “and captivating,” he kissed his right cheek, “ and utterly, undoubtedly—”

“‘Okay’?” he seethed, quieting the potioneer with a finger to his lips.

Draco smiled against it, kissing that as well and holding his hands against his chin. “Better than okay.”

“Don’t you butter me up with compliments, Mr. Malfoy—you’ve still got to explain what you mean by ‘okay’!”

“Uncle Harry—courgette! Can I pick it? Can I pick it? Can I?”

“Yeah, yeah, Ted, do whatever—what do you mean by that?” he rounded on the sharp-eyed blond once more.

As Draco took a deep breath, Harry gasped, mouth falling open as he considered the hidden message behind his reaction. “Does that mean you think I’m _fat?”_

The horror sweeping over Draco’s pale face would have been quite amusing if he wasn’t so furious. So that was the big secret, eh? What he’d hidden from him after all this time?

“How on Earth did you make such a mad leap from a gasp to _that_ conclusion?”

“Oh, God. You’ve not denied it,” he moaned, untangling himself from his spluttering partner. “Y-y-you think I’m fat and repulsive!”

“I never said you were fat or repulsive.”

Harry glowered. “So now it’s either, or? I’m either fat _or_ repulsive?”

“No! Neither, nor.”

“Ooooh!” cooed Teddy. “I found a _huge_ eggplant, too, Uncle Harry!”

“You have a response for everything, don’t you?”

Bewilderment clouded Draco’s face. “What do you mean—”

“Is that why you won’t touch me anymore?”

Draco’s expression twisted, a cross between confusion and alarm. “Wha—no, Potter; I don’t touch you because every time I try, you snap at me _not_ to touch you and waddle off grumbling and wanting ... to ... oh, my.” Draco quietly broke off, face turning whiter by the second. “Bollocks.”

In a clipped tone, Harry broached, “I ... _waddle?”_

“No. No, no, no! Sorry, sorry, love.” Draco hastily shook his head. “Waddle was too strong a word, the wrong word, the wrong—you don’t waddle—well, it’s quite darling when you do, like a—”

“Like a _what?”_

“Please don’t shout.”

“Choose your next words wisely, Draco Malfoy,” warned Harry, “they may be your last.”

“And you won’t _believe_ the size of this one, Uncle Harry...!”

Several tense seconds passed. Harry could name at least eight shades of green and white Draco had turned in the span of one minute. Arching an eyebrow, he harshly prompted, “Well?”

“Radiant.”

Harry flatly blinked. “I look like a radiant?”

“No; you—you _look_ radiant,” amended Draco with a mollifying smile.

“Uh-huh,” he answered slowly. “That still doesn’t answer the question. What do I look like, Draco?”

Grey eyes darted to his round gut and back. “Uh....”

“Oh, Uncle Harry! This one’s as big as your—”

“Teddy, stop helping!” Draco hissed over his shoulder.

Harry took a threatening step forward, arms still tight across his chest. “Like I’ve got a cauldron stuffed under my jumper? Huh, Draco?”

Draco took a step back and stumbled over his shovel. “No. Oh, heavens no.”

“No? All right, then, what? Like I’m carrying a Quaffle?”

“No, Harry,” he shook his head deliberately, standing his ground. “Stop comparing our child to Quidditch equipment.”

“Maybe you’ll finally get something out of my unattractive paunch if I continue!”

“And your gourds are _massive!”_

As Draco grimaced, he peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Is that it? Do I look like I’m about to give birth to a radiant, fat, juicy, gourd, Draco? A bloody huge squash or pumpkin?”

The blond sighed, rumpling his hair anxiously. “This is ridiculous—”

“Is it?” he snapped. “Because I don’t think so. Radiant like _what_ , Draco? Answer the damn question.”

Draco sighed and rubbed his face until it was vibrantly pink. “Harry, please...”

“It’s a simple question, Malfoy. Am I flustering you? Overwhelming you?” he pressed. “You’re getting a bit flushed, Draco. But your skin’s looking oh-so- _radiant._ ”

Teddy cried out excitedly. “And I’ve filled up your puffapod bag, Cousin Draco, completely full up—”

“I’m sorry, okay? You don’t waddle. And you’re neither fat, nor repulsive. You’re utterly radiant.”

“—like a sack of potatoes!”

“Yes, thank you, Teddy, that’s quite enough!” Draco bit out through clenched teeth. Harry eyed him closely, inwardly taking pleasure from the uncomfortable look on his face. “Harry?”

“I just want you finish that sentence Draco.”

“But—”

_“Draco.”_

“I—”

“Please.”

 

He sighed then, broad shoulders slumping and pointed face sagging in defeat. Then, he brightened, resilience gleaming in his grey eyes. “How much of a chance do I have of you letting this go?”

Harry quirked his lips to the side, stroking his stomach and thinking. “Hmmm ... about a snowball’s chance.”

Draco perked. “Yeah?”

“In hell.”

He instantly deflated. “Right.” Heaving a great sigh, Draco squared his shoulders and clapped his hands together, a look of determination washing over his previously uneasy expression. “Fine. You want an answer?”

“That would be nice.”

“Here’s my answer. You’re radiant—”

“Noted.”

“Like a, uh ... an irresistible, well-rounded, but incredibly magnificent,” he added quickly, no doubt noticing the stormy look marring his face, “a-and utterly delectable, like a, um....”

“Two seconds, Malfoy.”

Draco winced, tearing his gaze away and to their garden. _“Uhhhh...”_

 _“Tomatoes!”_ burst Teddy.

“Tomato! _Oh!_ ” Draco’s exultant expression melted into sheer panic the moment the word left his mouth. “...Bollocks.”

Despite the annoyance he felt surging through his veins, Harry shut his mouth quickly. He opened it once more, but closed it, swallowing the bitter words he’d almost lashed out. Finally, he quietly snarled, “So I’m as sexy as a _fat vegetable?”_

Of all the excuses he’d imagined Draco coming up with, “Tomatoes aren’t fat. And they aren’t vegetables, either,” weren’t even on the list. Nevertheless, Draco topped off his ludicrous response with, “Tomatoes are fruits.”

“Really?” Harry snickered mirthlessly. “You want to discuss the classification of vegetables _now?”_

“Well, if you’re going to argue the point, I think you have a right to know the truth. Tomatoes have seeds,” Draco lectured, practically mindless, as Harry gaped in disbelief. “So technically, a tomato’s a berry. And berries are what?”

“Vegetables.”

“Oh, now you’re just being stubborn.”

He gave an incredulous cry. “I think I’ve earned the privilege, what with being your fat, bloody, _stubborn_ tomato of a partner.”

“Exactly, Potter. You’re _my_ fat tomato and no one else’s.”

Harry’s eyes nearly popped from his head. “Draco Malfoy,” he scolded, “are you saying no one else but _you_ would have me in this state? Of all the dunderheaded things—”

With a growl of his own, Draco spun away from him, dragging his fingers through his hair and violently yanking his hands away to leave a hairstyle most unbecoming (and illegal) on a Malfoy. “Oh, my _God_ —you’re _impossible!_ ”

“—Stubborn, fat, repulsive, unattractive, waddling, impossible—just pile it on, Malfoy,” Harry sniped, failing to cross his arms right again. “Pile it on the pregnant fat bloke!”

Suddenly, Draco paused, loosening his tightly balled fists. His tensed shoulders fell easily and a sigh quietly dragged from his lips, truly overwhelmed. Harry softened, but only a smidgen. The way he’d seen it, Draco dug his own grave, and he’d sacrificed himself too much in his young life to lie in it for him. Slowly, Draco faced him, talking as he approached.

“Harry,” he softly began, “what do I have to do? What do I have to do to get you to beli—okay, I mean, sure, you’ve put on a stone, and there are stretch marks running up and down your stomach like the Hogwarts Express has made a few treks in and out of your pants. And yeah, your mood swings would put the Dark Lord to shame, not to mention you consume a combination of foods so bizarrely exotic—”

Fed up, Harry at last exploded, “How is this helping me?”

“—B-b-but the point is, I don’t care about all of that. Are you as stubborn as an arse? No question.”

_“Draco—”_

“Radiant as the rising and setting sun? Without a doubt. As round as a tomato? God, yes. You’re all of those things, Harry, but more so, you’re even more beautiful than the day I fell in love with you,” Draco confessed, his voice gaining strength with each statement. “You trusted me when no one else would, loved me when I knew I didn’t deserve it. And you amaze me every day,” he lightly exhaled, gingerly setting a hand atop the curved belly. “You’re having our child.

“My love for you has never changed; in fact, if anything, it has grown. I love you a million times more than yesterday.

“Know this: I would do anything for you, Harry Potter. You got that? _Anything._ You are still the sexiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on, tomato or eggplant or pear-shaped or not. For God’s sake, Harry! What do I...” Draco choked on his words and swallowed thickly. “How can I prove to you I love you just the way you are?”

The hilltop was eerily silent save for Teddy’s faint humming and the rustling leaves of the forest encompassing the other side of the hill. Though even as the hoary clouds gathered overhead, threatening a night of rain, nothing was more intense than those grey eyes boring into him with desperation, fear, and so much love. He could easily see how fiercely he was loved and, by the suspicious twinkle in Draco’s eyes, lusted after. The familiar stir of arousal jarred him from the intent look and Harry found himself, for once today, at a loss for words. Damn him.

“Tell me.”

He peered over the rim of his glasses and immediately fell under the weight of that stare. Hypnotic, powerful, passionate: goddamned Slytherin!

“I’ll take you right here and now if you want me to,” was Draco’s whispered promise, moving their lips inches apart. “Rip off these robes and worship every stretch mark, wrinkle, and patch of dry skin, Harry, I mean it. Right here, right now. You only need to say the word.”

His mouth went bone dry. He quickly darted a glance to his godson, scooping up handfuls of dirt a mere twenty feet behind them. Oh, God; if ever there was a time _not_ to get hard....

His voice was strained as he mumbled, “In front of Teddy?”

“We’ll pitch him over the side of our non-mountainous mountain if we have to.”

“Won’t Andromeda be upset? Won’t Teddy?”

“He’s a big boy. Like me,” said Draco, leering.

Harry was happy there was an entire stomach between them to keep him from pitifully molding his groin to Draco’s. “It’s been a while since we’ve shagged outside,” he whispered, inhaling the masculine scent of perspiration and cool earth and pure Draco. “And the ground’s getting hard for winter—”

“That’s not all that’s getting hard.”

“And the—the grass, it’s not as soft—”

“Then we’ll go inside,” suggested Draco. “Use the bed.”

He made a face. “I don’t feel like climbing up _that_ mountain.”

When Draco shifted, he pulled back questioningly, following his gaze to the bleak sky. “It’s getting dark. I’ll light the fireplace, set down a few pillows, and we’ll improvise from there.”

“ _Now_ we’re talking.”

Draco jerked his head downhill. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” he hissed, mildly impressed that he didn’t topple over at Draco’s insistent tug. “Mind, it took us a while to get up the hill.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Nice, but I’d break you in half.”

An easy laugh bubbled from the blond’s throat. “I don’t mind,” he said. Harry believed him.

“But _I_ do, and Teddy—”

“We’ll send him off early,” said Draco, sliding his arms around his sizable middle and trailing his lips persuasively up and down his neck. “Crack open a new case of butterbeer, maybe throw in a few vegetables or tomatoes for sport and finally put that obscenely garish dragonhide rug from George to good use. I can’t wait to spread you out on those scales and—”

Harry groaned around a mouthful of lip, panting, “How fast can you run?”

“Depends,” growled Draco. “How fast can you take your clothes off?”

“How fast can _you_?” he countered, smirking. “With your _teeth?”_

And suddenly Draco’s mouth captured his and they were kissing, pure lust bursting through him like Filibuster Fireworks, several hands fisting in hair and grabbing at robes, Teddy was groaning in exasperation and the baby beat furiously against his navel—

 _“God,_ I love your hormones.”

“Ted!” wheezed Harry. “Home. _Now.”_

_“Awwww!”_

“Move it, dwarf!”

Harry chided _“Draco!”_ as Teddy angrily cried, “Hey!”

“What, you want me to apologize for being hot and bothered now?”

“Just...” Harry gestured wordlessly towards his godson, who now wore his hair as violet as the eggplant in his basket. “C’mon, we’ve got to clean up before we leave.”

He remained impassive in the face of Draco’s desperate look and smugly grinned as his partner heaved a put upon sigh and stalked over to Teddy. With a bit of effort, they took up their collection of nearly empty potion jars, bags, and a half-full basket of plump red tomatoes, aubergine eggplants and an outrageously long courgette. He didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in Draco’s eyes as they both stared at the squash in wonder.

After Banishing the wheelbarrow to the hill’s bottom, the trio made their way carefully down the non-mountainous mountain, Teddy leading off and Draco helping Harry maneuver down the hill. Though he muttered something about supporting the baby, Harry noticed his hands were often grabbing his arse or his front instead of shielding their child as intended.

Once safely on flat land, Harry motioned to the cart filled with empty jars and their horde of vegetables ... and tomatoes. “Go on and clean up. I’ll prepare Teddy for send off.” When Draco opened his mouth to protest, he pulled him close, and ignoring Teddy’s mocking gags, kissed him quickly and sweetly. “Think of it as a headstart.”

Draco’s lips stretched in a smirk. In three swift seconds he kissed him deeply, but with impressive restraint, and began jogging the wheelbarrow to the garden shed.

The moment he was a safe distance away, Harry shoved his hand in his pockets, pulled out a shiny gold Galleon, and pressed it in his godson’s palm. With careful reverence, Teddy slipped the coin in his back pocket and snapped the button closed purposefully as if to ward off any invisible imp planning to burgle his booty. An infectious beam graced the boy’s lightly freckled face as he slid his hand in his godfather’s and together, they continued their walk back to the cottage.

After a few strides, Teddy cautiously posed, “Was that what you wanted?”

He nodded briskly, stifling the urge to grin madly. “Absolutely. Well done, Teddy. Good show.”

Teddy smiled, his hair and eyes turned bright turquoise and dimples denting his rosy cheeks. “Thanks, Uncle Harry. But why did you want to trick Cousin Draco into a fight? Did he do something wrong?”

“Oh no, Ted.” He snickered, waiting for Teddy’s creased brow to smooth out. “It’s what your cousin didn’t, er ... _do_.”

“What, d’you mean kiss you?” asked Teddy, face scrunching with his irritation. “He kisses you all the time! You just wanted him to snog you _more?”_

Harry feigned offense. “A bit of snogging never hurt anyone.”

Teddy stared at him in disbelief. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Cousin Draco’s kisses got you preggers.” Harry had to give him credit for noticing the effects of too much snogging early on. It certainly saved him the trouble of explaining the whole truth later on. Much, _much_ later. “So you want him to kiss you some more?”

“Among other things.”

“Like what?”

Grateful for the robe and paunch shielding on his raging erection from notice, Harry dismissively murmured, “Erm ... I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Bollocks.”

_“Language.”_

“Sorry,” said Teddy, but Harry could easily tell he hadn’t meant a word. For in the next ten seconds, Teddy sprouted black hair and beseeching green eyes identical to his. Cheeky little bugger.

He tried to keep his resolve in the face of his godson’s blatant attempts at bribery, but failed miserably. He inwardly blamed it on hormones. “Ohhh, you’re just lucky you’re irresistibly adorable.”

“I know.”

“You do, do you?” He shook his head at Teddy’s teasing grin. “But do remember what I said about saying those things around your grandmother,” he sternly pointed out. “All right?”

“Sorry, Uncle Harry.”

“‘Sorry’?” Harry inquired, casting the entirely-too-impish youth a bemused look.

Teddy simply smiled with uncanny innocence and patted his back pocket soundly. “Buying my silence’ll cost you extra.”

Harry froze midstep, throwing a dry look in his godson’s direction.

“Cheeky little—”

“Slytherin?”

Harry winced, guardedly bracing a hand on his swollen stomach. No. Not this time. Not a snowball’s chance in—

He grunted in discomfort as a sharp kick was aimed at his palm. Bloody David Beckham-to-be. Bloody tomato.

Bloody Slytherin.

Bollocks.

 

.:.


End file.
